Page 46 of Grizz

“Wallet.Coffee table.”

She finds it in two seconds, rips it open with her teeth, rolls it down me with her supple hands.Then she pushes me back onto the couch and straddles me without hesitation.

We both groan when she sinks down, taking every inch until she’s seated fully and we’re nose to nose, breathing the same air.Her hands frame my face, and for one suspended second, we just stare.

Then she starts to move.

Slow at first, rolling her hips in a rhythm that makes my vision blur.I grip her waist, thumbs pressing into the dimples above her ass, guiding her harder, faster.The couch creaks beneath us.Her head falls back, breasts bouncing with every thrust, and I can’t resist.I lean forward, suck a nipple into my mouth, bite just hard enough to make her gasp and grind down harder.

“Grizz—fuck—right there—”

I slide a hand between us, circle her clit with my thumb, and she shatters again, clenching so tight around me I see stars.Two more thrusts and I follow, burying myself deep and coming with her name ripped out of my chest.

She collapses forward, forehead against mine, both of us slick with sweat and breathing heavily.I wrap my arms around her back and hold her there, feeling her heartbeat hammer against my ribs.

After a minute (or five), she lifts her head, hair wild, lips swollen, eyes soft enough to steal my breath.

She smiles, then carefully climbs off me, disposes of the condom with impressive efficiency, and curls back into my side.I tug a throw blanket over us both.

Casual, I remind myself.In fact, after my brain starts working again, I’ll gently try to get her out of here.That’s how casual this will be.

But then she shifts closer, one knee brushing mine, and every part of me that pretended to want simple and uncomplicated feels anything but.

I ignore that—for now.I look at her like I didn’t spend all day trying not to want exactly this.

Daisy shifts on the couch, turning so she’s angled toward me.We bask in the afterglow, spent and delirious.It’s times like these I understand why people smoke after sex.

“You seemed… distracted today,” she says.“During the game.”

The words are soft and observational, not accusatory.

“I wasn’t distracted,” I lie.

She arches a brow.“Come on, Grizz.I watched the whole game.You were off.”Her voice gentles.“And that cross-check from the Cougars defenseman?You just stood there.Didn’t throw a punch, didn’t even chirp at the guy.You gave him absolutely nothing.”

I tense visibly.I can’t tell her why.I can’t tell her she was in my head for sixty straight minutes, that every time I tried to lean into instinct or anger or the familiar violence that keeps me effective, her face—her laugh, her mouth, the way she looked at me when I told her about my father—kept replacing it.

So I deflect and tell her not quite an untruth, but a semi-lie I know she can latch onto so she doesn’t poke into my feelings about her.

“My dad’s not doing well.”That part’s truth but not why I was distracted during the game.

Daisy’s eyes flare with surprise that I’d bring up a topic so personal, but it’s doing as intended because she presses a hand to my chest.“What happened?”

“He wandered away from his home and got lost.He’s okay, but my sister, Eliza, thinks it’s time for him to go to an assisted living facility for his safety, and I agree.”

The regret for sharing hits instantly, like touching a burning stove before realizing the danger.I wish I could pull the words back, shove them into the vault where they belong.But they’re out now.

Daisy goes completely still.

I exhale.“He’s… deteriorating.Fast.”I stop there, keep it surface level.“Eliza’s carrying most of it, but she doesn’t have the ability to watch him full time with her job.She’s feeling guilty and I feel bad that the only way I can help is to pay for everything.”

Daisy’s face contorts like she actually sees the knot in my chest instead of the mask I’m wearing over it.

“That must be incredibly hard,” she says quietly.“For both of you.”

I nod once, curt.More than I meant to reveal already.I can feel the emotional cliff beneath my feet, and I’m not going over it.Not tonight.Not with her this close.So, I stand and head for the kitchen.

The motion is abrupt enough that she notices, but she doesn’t call me on it.